


Driven Sideways

by VorpalGirl



Series: Driving Sideways (Tales of An Alternate Mindscape) [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Mindscape (Sanders Sides), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Dimension Travel, Gen, Morally Grey Morality | Patton Sanders, My First Work in This Fandom, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Episode: Putting Others First - Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux | Sanders Sides, Roleswap, Slow To Update, The Imagination Room (Sanders Sides), WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27572716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VorpalGirl/pseuds/VorpalGirl
Summary: Post-SvS Redux, Roman wakes up in a room that both is, and isn't, Virgil's.Mostly because the Side that resides there both is, and isn't, Virgil.(Or: a distraught Roman accidentally hops dimensions to an alternate Mindscape, where Thomas' childhood - and thus the history and even roles of the Sides - went very,verydifferently)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Series: Driving Sideways (Tales of An Alternate Mindscape) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017838
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42
Collections: TSS Fanworks Collective





	Driven Sideways

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Little Bit To The Left](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25553119) by [VillainVogue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VillainVogue/pseuds/VillainVogue). 



> \- ON UPDATES: this fic is likely to be both slow and haphazard in its update schedule, especially after the first few chapters, because it's still in development and I have no "buffer".
> 
> \- ON THE "SERIES": you may notice this is already set as the "first" Work in a Series; this is because some backstory bits or side stories set in the alternate mindscape, _may_ be posted as one or more separate pieces. If that interests you, you may want to Subscribe to the Series. 
> 
> \- ON TAGGING: Sanders Sides tags are often long or awkward, which for me often adds up to "hard to parse", so I'm trying to keep this _formally_ tagged pretty minimally...but I understand and respect the desire to curate your reading experiences, so occasionally I may add individual chapter notes to forewarn of stuff that I figure can be reasonably expected to be a trigger for some people (but, I may also miss some - so please be prepared for that possibility!). I also am for the most part NOT tagging characters until they appear...with one exception.
> 
> \- ON "MORALLY GREY" PATTON: The exception to the character tagging rule I'm using, is that despite Patton not appearing in chapter 1, I _have_ already tagged "Morally Grey Morality | Patton Sanders". The reason, is I wanted to give fair warning for the upcoming portrayal, which is...definitely extrapolated as a "what if" _from_ canon that I feel with the circumstances actually makes sense? But it's not very like canon's "happy Pappy" Pat. You might not even feel he's particularly sympathetic for much of it, especially when you first start hearing about him from the alternate Virgil. Let's just say that as always, Patton means or meant well, but he doesn't always make the best of decisions and sometimes you just wanna take him by the shoulders and shake him.  
> 
> 
> And now: WHAT is UP everybody!?
> 
> The answer in this case is "Roman"...

Roman awoke gradually — and then all at once. He immediately regretted the latter, because his head was _absolutely killing_ him, and not exactly softly, at that. 

What _was_ soft, however, was the familiar voice that spoke up in response to the groan he had just let out. 

"Hey...you awake now, then?" 

He blinked his eyes open a little, and squinted up, and behind him, and...sure enough, there was a familiar, Concerned looking emo, sitting on the bed next to him.

_Something's...different, though?_ he thought, though it was difficult to put his finger on _what_ , exactly. He wasn’t wearing his hoodie, for one — there _was_ that — but even if he hadn't still been wearing what looks to be the exact same long-sleeved purple shirt he usually wore under it, Roman would still have recognized the way he wore his bangs over his eyes, the low, almost gravelly tone of his voice...and the not-so-subtle gesture of biting down on his thumbnail.

"...Virgil?"

Roman’s voice came out hoarse, like he'd either been screaming for an hour straight, or swallowed sandpaper.

Possibly both, from the feel of it. _Ow._   
  
At hearing Roman speak, some of the tension seemed to leave Virgil. His hand came down away from his mouth, his shoulders relaxed and his expression seemed to soften considerably. He nodded at Roman.

And so much _was_ the same about Virgil — right down to the gestures, right down to the hair and the quiet expressiveness of his face — that it took Roman until that very moment, when his bangs bounced back and forth, to realize that _Virgil's eyeshadow didn't go under his eyes like it usually did._ That those— _those_ were, just...normal dark circles? The kind you got from lack of sleep? 

Which, granted, Virgil no doubt normally had underneath the eyeshadow _anyway_ , given his sleeping patterns (or lack thereof), but Roman was not used to _seeing_ them, and now that he knew he _was_ , it was kind of...jarring?

Virgil gently nudged him. "Hey. Sit up? I'll get you some water — it sounds like you need it."

Well, Roman couldn’t exactly disagree with that, so he nodded back, and started forcing himself upright.  
  
Turned out it wasn’t just his head — _everything_ in Roman’s body seemed like it _ached_ and _throbbed_. He heard multiple pops and cracks from what felt like _every_ damn joint, and it all made him want to collapse right back down on the bed, frankly, until it subsided. But...

But.  
  
_Water._ Water sounded...really good. Like, really _really_ good, right now.

When he was finally sitting fully upright, Virgil handed him a container.  
  
Roman smiled in thanks, and accepted it, noting to himself with faint surprise that the container itself — a tumbler — was purple. A very _nice_ purple, actually. The translucent cup caught the light from the lamp next to the bed like stained glass, shedding shards of it in royal purple hues _just_ bright enough to be cheerful, but not so much so that it was actually eye-searing.  
  
It was emblazoned with what looked like a single, large, glossy version of Virgil's emblem — a lacquered-looking black and silver storm cloud with a shiny, metallic gold lightning bolt coming from the bottom. The cover of the thing was plain clear plastic and there was a black plastic straw with purple stripes poking out of the drinking...hole...slot thing?

(Was there a name for those? He felt like there was. He might have to ask Logan later or something, he figured, but he discarded it as unimportant at that _particular_ moment because his head was killing him _far_ too much to Word more than it had to right then)

In any case, he thought as he moved to take his first sip, it was... kind of impressive? Unless Virgil already had it (and Roman couldn't rule that out but _also_ couldn't recall him ever using it before) then that was a fairly detailed, well-made conjuring for having been done on the spot! And beautifully made, at that.

He was momentarily distracted from the urge to compliment it however, by the sheer bliss that was having cool water on his throat. 

_Ah, water. Water_ _good_ , he thought. _God bless empathetic emos._  
  
He took another very grateful sip...and another, and another, as he thought to himself: he really shouldn't be quite _so_ surprised, should he?

After all, he reminded himself: this _was_ the same Side that had created that black and purple patchwork design for his clothing update not _too_ long ago — a cute, clever and somehow so _perfectly_ _Virgil_ design that Roman himself was almost jealous of the thing.   
  
Point was...he really _shouldn't_ be surprised that Virgil knew how to work aesthetically with colors. At least not when it was mostly his _signature_ ones, because Virgil had already done some good work with those before, right in front of him.

Still.  
  
_Still._ Roman decided that once he was able to speak without sounding like he was dying of a desert plague, he would specifically compliment him on it. If only because it _was_ lovely work and he really _didn't_ do that enough, did he? Complimenting others? Complimenting _Virgil_ , in particular, even when it was _warranted_?

He winced, realizing, well...yeah. He didn't. He was often doing the opposite, in fact; he was often pretty _harsh_. _Especially_ on Virgil. Especially when he was on edge, and Roman had been on edge for _months_.

The fact that Virgil was even willing to be this kind to him right then was...well.

He probably didn't deserve it, he thought. Least of all from Virgil, and _that_...that created a whole different, stabbing kind of ache in his chest.

(It didn't matter that on some level he knew his chest was “technically imaginary”, and shouldn't be _able_ to "ache"; Roman's imagination was very, very good)

"Hmm," Virgil said, with a faint smirk. "I think you _might_ have been a little thirsty.”

Roman chuckled, and smiled a little himself, realizing that he'd already downed most of the liquid. "You're not wrong," he said, and his voice was still a little rough but it was _much_ better than it had been. "Thank you..."

"Hey, no prob," Virgil said, patting his shoulder gently.

It was then that Roman finally dragged himself enough out of his own head to take stock of his surroundings.  
  
And got... very, very confused.

The carpet in the room they were in was a soft, dark, vaguely violet sort of grey, plush enough to look like it would be nice against bare feet. The walls were a rich royal purple color that was _just_ bright enough to not be actively depressing, and to set off all the blacks and darker wood tones of the furniture — which was mostly a set of well-populated bookshelves, a pair of nightstands with brassy looking knobs on the drawers, and the bed they were both sitting on — without seeming like it came out of a crayon box. He looked down, and noticed the bed had a very nice, plush purple blanket on top, matching purple pillow cases, and black sheets under that. 

The room was _also_ full of various knick knacks that seemed to be mostly spider, monster, or _Nightmare Before Christmas_ themed, making him wonder to himself: _Did Virgil make this place or something? Where_ **_is_ ** _this?_

Because he had, he was pretty sure, never been in this room in his _life_. 

Which was weird, because it almost — _almost_ — felt...familiar?

He frowned, bugged by that thought, and continued looking around the room.  
  
Off to one side, he noted, was a large, wooden roll-top desk.  
  
It was absolutely _covered;_ with papers, with sketch pads and with notebooks and with a series of colorful pen holders each stuffed to the _max_ with a motley assortment of writing and drawing utensils. And, in one case, a tin filled with various paint brushes of different shapes, sizes, and types (mostly golden taklon, he noticed — but there were some very nice looking sables mixed in, too).

The desk and one of the nightstands also each had a handful of books sitting on them, with titles like _Forensics for Writers_ , or _Morpho: Skeleton and Bone Reference Points_. The bookshelves themselves had everything from Neil Gaiman to Stephen King sitting on them, as well as countless books on — judging from the titles — a _wide_ variety of subjects. Just at a glance, he could see everything from chemistry and environmentalism, to anthropology, entomology, oceanography — wait.   
  
He _can't_ have read that one right...except, no, wait, he _had_.

"' _Women and Weasels'?_ " He read off in disbelief. "Is that seriously an _actual book_!?"

Virgil blinked, followed his gaze, and then promptly snorted. He chuckled, patting his shoulder again. "Yeah, it's real. Well, a _copy_ of a real one, anyway. Turns out weasels, ferrets, ermines, all those things? They used to carry a lot of weirdly specific symbolism? Especially in European art? It's actually kinda interesting; you — you can borrow it sometime, if you like?"

He wasn’t sure how to answer that, because he both did, and did _not_.   
  
(Weasels? Seriously? Weasels. Weasels, specifically _with women._ Well then, it was official, literally everything was symbolic for something. But anyway...)  
  
He was still _extremely_ confused in general. Increasingly confused, actually, which was increasingly Not Fun.

He hated to ask. Hated to _have_ to ask . Hated to admit to _not knowing_ , especially since that would mean admitting he wasn’t entirely sure how he had gotten here in the first place, but...it was going to drive him mad if he didn't.  
  
So, he did.

"Where... am I, exactly?" 

Because he still couldn't quite pin it down. He could tell, granted, from the feel alone that they were _somewhere_ in the mindscape — somewhere not terribly dark or dangerous, either, somewhere _welcoming,_ even.

But it also felt... _off_ , in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on. Other than it felt both familiar, and, somehow, deeply _not_.  
  
And he had no idea what to make of that. 

" _Oh_..." Virgil said, softly, and something in his tone made Roman glance over in time to see the end of a faint _wince_ as Virgil turned his own eyes away, refusing to meet Roman's. 

The thumbnail made a return to his incisors. 

"Right," Virgil eventually said, and something in the tone was so utterly, _terribly_ gentle, that Roman was immediately put back on edge. "You...probably haven't been in this, um...section? For a while, huh..." 

Roman forced himself to stay still, and simply blinked at him, frowning. "What...section?" he asked.

"Of the mindscape, I mean. This, um,” Virgil said, his voice softening even more, gaining a note of uncertainty. “It's...my room?" 

" _Oh_ ", Roman said, feeling like the air had been sucked out of him, because _yeah_ , he _hadn't_ been to Virgil's room in a while. For a very _damn good reason_.

"Yeah," Virgil said, a quiet apology sitting in his tone. Then, he frowned. "You...seem surprised, though. Do you...not remember coming in here? Did you not...um, _intend_ to wind up here, then?"

Roman rubbed his face, especially his eyes, and wished the headache wouldn't keep taking its sweet time to go away; it was a touch better since he had had some water, but it was still _there_ and it was _obnoxious,_ making it hard to think.

"I...kind of? I don't...really remember what the heck could have gotten me _here_ at any rate, I mean..."

"Mm," Virgil said, his hands fidgeting in his lap. "Do you...do you wanna leave, then? I’d understand — it’s not like I’d be offended or anything — I mean — I don't…” he chewed at his lip for a moment, before softly adding: “I...kinda don't want to see you have, like, a panic attack or something... ya know? I mean..." 

Roman let out a heavy breath. Because...in Virgil’s room? Yeah, that was a _distinct_ possibility. "Yeah. Me neither."

"So...kitchen, maybe? I can...I could make some tea, and I think there's some cookies we could pilfer?"

"You know what? Sure," Roman said, sighing. The bed had seemed pretty comfortable, but that was up until he knew where it _was_. "I...yeah, I don't...want to stay... _here_. No offense."

Virgil smiled at him; it looked more sad than happy. "None taken," he said softly. "I get it." He got up and offered Roman a hand. "Tea and snacks, then?" 

Roman smiled back — at least, as much as he _could_ with how freaking tired and _achy_ he was.

As he got up, as he followed Virgil to the door, Roman took the opportunity to glance around one last time, truly taking in the... _unexpected_ visuals of Virgil's room. 

_Really_ unexpected, actually. His mental gears were attempting to turn, but mostly, they were still _snagging._  
  
Because...this really didn't seem familiar _enough,_ to him, to be Virgil’s room? 

He had _been_ in Virgil's room before, after all. It hadn't been _pleasant_ , but he remembered it all the more vividly for that very reason. 

Granted, the last time he had been in the Anxiety end of the mindscape, it had been _with Thomas_ , in a way that had morphed the room to match Thomas' living room. And now that he looked for it, mixed in with a couple of vintage horror movie posters in sleek black frames he _did_ spot those Jack and Sally _Nightmare Before Christmas_ prints he had been somewhat jealous of at the time. Even the same, somewhat cartoonish spider curtains were still peeking out from behind a shelf, he noted, and the Sally doll he vaguely remembered spotting? That was on top of one of the shorter bookshelves.

But surely...surely the overall _vibe_ wouldn't... _couldn’t_ change _that_ much, right? 

For one: what had happened to all the _cobwebs_?

Had those been just an artifact of their own fear or something? 

And the _colors_ …

Okay so _that_ he at least felt secure enough to comment on, because the walls alone _definitely_ hadn’t been this color before, when it had stood in for the living room. 

"Not gonna lie," he said. "Kinda surprised to find so much _color_ in here."

Virgil snorted, and Roman glanced over, catching a smirk aimed right at him. "Just because I'm into _spooky_ doesn't mean I don't like _color_ , Ro."

"Right," Roman said, because sure, that was true; heck...  
  


_" I kinda dig the purple."_   
  


Yeah, he may usually have favored black and greyscale in his daily wardrobe, but Virgil wasn't completely _averse_ to color. Especially in the purple or violet ranges. So that...sort of made sense, he supposed.  
  
Though... something else was _still_ nagging at him.  
  
_Something_ didn't quite add up, or _feel_ right, and it was bothering him that he couldn’t figure out what it _was_.

"Fair enough..." He mumbled however, finally tearing his eyes away from the décor.

They were heading out the door then, into the hall, and he was needless to say a _tad_ surprised Virgil didn't bother to grab his usually-omnipresent hoodie; was he so distracted he forgot about it, or something?  
  
Roman frowned, and glanced back in the direction of the room, planning to point back toward it and ask about exactly that subject...when all thoughts of _hoodies_ evaporated like a bottle of uncapped acetone.

Because there, in the middle of the upper half of the door, in shimmering silver, in the center of a black and purple storm cloud with a golden lightning bolt, it read:

**_~ Creativity ~_ **

  
  



End file.
